We Are A Tale Of Two Cities
by Sunshinecackle
Summary: Wasn't love supposed to fix all of this self-loathing?


**Title:** We Are A Tale Of Two Cities  
 **Author:** Donnie  
 **Fandom:** Saw  
 **Setting:** Adam's Apartment  
 **Pairing:** Lawrence Gordon/Adam Faulkner-Stanheight, Lawrence Gordon/Alison Gordon  
 **Characters:** Lawrence Gordon, Adam Faulkner-Stanheight, Alison Gordon, Diana Gordon  
 **Genre:** Romance/Angst  
 **Rating:** K  
 **Chapters:** 1/1  
 **Word Count:** 690  
 **Type of Work:** One-Shot  
 **Status:** Complete  
 **Warnings:** Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Introspection, Alcohol Use, Smoking, Bad Coping Skills, Adam-Centric  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.  
 **Summary:** Wasn't love supposed to fix all of this self-loathing?

 **AN:** So, I wrote this a few months back, I think? On paper, of course. I'm finally getting around to typing things that needed to be typed. xD It only took forever and when I had six things to do, but that's okay. I really love this ship and I will go down with it if I must.

 **We Are A Tale Of Two Cities** ****

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Adam made a habit to never feel shame.

With all the things desperation had driven him to over the years, he had to cut himself at least a little slack. He had his hands buried in enough questionable content even Hell was too good for him.

But there was something about this that made him ask the kinds of questions he hated.

He lit up another one of the Marlboros Lawrence had begrudgingly bought him. They beat the shit out of the Pal Mals he usually scraped together. The carton he'd received earlier was going to be empty at this rate.

Picking the photo up off the dingy coffee table, he stared at it again. Thumb absently smoothing over the corner threatening to curl, he sat back, tipping his head to blow smoke above him. Lifting the cigarette and the picture at the same time, he sighed before taking another drag.

"I never get so twisted up over a pretty face." He mumbled, half to himself and half to his ceiling. "What's he got that nobody else does…?"

Adam knew exactly what it was. It had way less to do with his physical attributes and more with the raw, broken look in those wide blue eyes. That stint in the grungy industrial bathroom opened both of them up to a side of themselves that they didn't believe existed.

So why did he still hate himself?

Most of it probably had to do with Diana.

Lawrence and ALison had a tenuous grasp on what had once been a happy marriage. The doctor had confided in him on more than one occasion that he stayed for Diana. It was no question that Alison hated Adam, either. She thought he was a shitty influence on her daughter _and_ her husband.

And she wasn't really wrong.

Every time Lawrence disappeared, claiming work emergencies, he usually found himself in a hotel with Adam. Not something like the Barfly, either. No, Adam deserved the Best. He was better than Carla, better than Alison, Lawrence liked to remind him. He was reliable, he was special, he survived. For everything, Lawrence could put his faith in Adam. They could lie to the world, but read everything about the other like a favorite novel. There was a kind of trust between them that no one else could understand. They went through Hell together, and came out damaged.

But they were _alive_.

So what if Adam was the 'other woman', of sorts. He was happy, for once, wasn't he? Lawrence loved him. And he loved Lawrence in return. For the first time in a long time, Adam felt like his ship had come in. He was happy, he loved someone maybe more than himself.

So why did he feel so shitty when he was alone? Wasn't love supposed to fix that?

Maybe it was their differences.

Sighing, he flopped onto his side, depositing his spent cigarette on the full ashtray on the coffee table. Rolling to his back, he closed his eyes, scooting down until his head was flat on the cushion. Holding the photo of Lawrence above his head, he smiled a little. Petting his cheek with his thumb, he sighed again, smile dropping. What he wouldn't give just to hear Lawrence's voice right now.

Instead, he rest the candid shot on his chest and reached for the shitty beer he'd been drinking. He was far from buzzed but maybe he could trick himself into thinking he was. After chugging it, he only felt worse.

He was a shit liar, even to himself.

Turning on his TV, he ignored the skipping and freezing of the picture. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to sleep. It was coming up on five am, he might as well try. A smile worked back onto his face as he imagined Lawrence's strong arms wrapping around him, those coveted hands in his hair. Sure, they were from two different worlds, from opposite ends of the spectrum, but he knew that there was no shaking this. The heart wanted what it wanted, and it was going to have it.

Hopefully.

 **~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

 **AN:** Wow, I finally got this typed up. xD This was one of the first fics I wrote for these two, but I did it on paper so I never know when I'll get these things typed up. ; u; Hope you guys enjoyed!


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